


Thomas The Twink Engine: The Sad(der) Story Of Henry

by NukesAudios



Category: Thomas the Tank Engine & Friends
Genre: M/M, Screenplay/Script Format, Trains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:54:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29652999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NukesAudios/pseuds/NukesAudios
Summary: The Isle of Sodom's fabulous big green engine is excited about his turn in the tunnel tonight. Unfortunately, he comes to learn that there can certainly be too much of a good thing.Tags include: [Script Offer] [Shitpost] [Narrative Reading] [M/M Pairings] [Anthro Trains] [Drug Use] [Blowjob] [Gloryhole] [Blowbang] [Copious Amounts of Train Cum] [Sequel] [Sad Ending] [Rule 34] [Childhood Ruining]
Kudos: 2





	Thomas The Twink Engine: The Sad(der) Story Of Henry

**Author's Note:**

> An Audio Erotica Shitpost created as a Script Offer for performance on r/Gonewildaudio, r/Gonewildaudible and related Subreddits.
> 
> It's god-awful, read at your own risk lol.

It was a special day for Sodor's fabulous big green engine. 

His fresh coat of paint glinted as he bathed in the early morning sunbeams dancing through the windows of his shed.

A smile crept across Henry's lips as he thought fondly of tonight, and let out a quiver in anticipation, wondering how long his queue would be.

He sniffled a little, suddenly aware of the steady drip at the back of his throat. He had promised himself that he would only snort a couple of lines of his special Welsh coal to take the edge off this morning, but he could already feel his carbon-enhanced reality fraying at its seams.

He pulled out of his shed, yawning dramatically as he mounted the turntable.

"Good morning, Henry! Are you trying to catch a fly? Or are you perhaps… Practicing something?

Piped Percy with a mischievous whistle, grinning as he watched from a siding.

"Sweetheart,"

Henry retorted.

"With your... Reputation for catching all kinds of things in your own mouth, I can only advise you to shut it before you embarrass yourself."

Muffled cackling erupted from behind the doors of James' shed, and Toby the tram engine rolled his eyes and let out a nettled sigh. 

It was a little too loud, and sounded a little too crabby, and so Henry swung on the turntable to face him, rounding on him in turn.

"Do you have something to add, or perhaps… Something to share?"

He asked, the false sweetness oozing threateningly from his pointed question.

"N… No, not at all-"

Toby spluttered, knowing just how far he'd overshot the platform this time.

"It's okay, one day you'll be able to tell us, my darling trammy tramp!"

"T..tell you what?"

Toby asked meekly.

"Ugh. That you, like alllll tram engines are closeted bottoms, boyo! Cow catcher at the front, bull snatcher at the back, you don't need to be so shy about it, just own it, you beautiful coward!"

With an indignant wheesh of steam, Toby departed, grumbling as he did.

Percy winked at Henry and set off as well.

It was Henry's turn in the tunnel tonight, and he was certain that his curvy, greedy little green tank engine friend would be right there in the queue.

He hurried about his work, eagerly huffing and puffing and shunting his passenger carriages roughly, raising a chorus of moans and giggles and begging for more from their "big green Daddy."

He didn't appreciate that at all and it made him even more cross. 

He had spent far too much time getting his buffer caps done did to put up with this "Daddy" nonsense.

But he found himself too excited for tonight to stay in a foul mood. Before long, the moon gleamed dimly as Henry approached the tunnel.

He huffed and chuffed and puffed and snorted an obscenely long line of his Welsh coal.

Feeling his firebox glow warmly and the clickety-clack of the steel in his wheels rolling groovily, he knew he was ready.

He could already hear commotion from a small crowd on the other side of the tunnel wall. As he approached the holes, they hushed, and a long, flaccid girder flopped through the nearest hole.

"What on Earth is this?"

Enquired Henry in a teasing timbre as his tongue pressed against the tip.

"It's erm… My steel!"

Came the muffled response from a very familiar voice from behind the brickwork curtain.

"Hmmmm… it doesn't look much like steel to me…"

Hummed Henry, as he allowed it to flop all over his face, basking in its thick musk, nibbling softly at it with his lips here and there.

"It hasn't been forged yet but- Y- you're forging it right n- now!"

Whimpered the squeaky voice, now fighting to hold back full moans.

"Oh, I- mmmm- 'ee what you mean-"

Replied Henry, around a mouthful of this not-quite-mystery meat. His lips trembled around it as it swelled to its full girth against the silky flesh of his inner cheek.

Without warning, he began sucking and slurping at it. His eager tongue slithered up and down the underside of the length of this throbbing rod, as his lips coaxed a drizzle of sweetness from the head each time he leaned forward to threaten his tonsils with it.

Before long the rhythmic mouth massage and its answering moans reached a crescendo, the unmistakable wobbly-wheeled shuddering ending in a noisy cloud of satiated steam.

Henry gasped and giggled, almost gargling on the thick warmth sliding down his throat. 

More eager, thick, dripping steel slid eagerly through the holes in the tunnel wall and Henry went straight back to work.

Sucking and puffing and licking and slurping, he covered himself in cum. He bathed in the thick, messy ropes until he was covered in crusty green and white stripes and resembled a humbug mint.

Before long, Henry's final satisfied visitor slinked away into the early streaks of rising sunlight.

In a panic, he realised that his beautiful green paint was obscured by such a thick coat mottled white that he was no longer the Island's fabulous big green engine- he looked more like its fabulous cum-drenched ghost!

He couldn't leave the tunnel now, he thought. The troublesome trucks would have a field day. And how could he possibly look the other engines in the eye when he looked like this?

And so, he locked his brakes into position. He would wait until nightfall, no matter how much confusion and delay his occupation of the tunnel would cause.

Later that morning, Thomas approached the tunnel and chirpily asked him to move.

Henry refused.

"I shan't and I won't!" 

He repeated, grumpily. 

Thomas tried to push Henry, but his little twiggy twink boiler simply couldn't muster the muscle to move Henry's bulk. 

Before long, Sir Topham Hat was summoned, and he made his way to the tunnel to remonstrate to his recalcitrant locomotive.

A crowd of angry passengers and gruff engineers had gathered at the tunnel entrance to express their displeasure. The Fat Controller pushed his way to the front of the crowd before addressing Henry in a furious roar.

"What in the name of King Sigmund is the meaning of all this commotion!?

Henry, you are causing a great deal of trouble and delay by blocking this tunnel. If you *shan't* move, I shall make it so you *can't* move!"

Henry called his bluff, cum flaking from the corner of his lips.

"Right then."

Boomed the Fat Controller, with a terse curve of his lips.

"Tear up the rails behind him immediately. And brick up the tunnel entrance… To mouth level." If you enjoy spending time in the tunnel so much, then perhaps you shall realise in time that you can have too much of a good thing!"

The lead forman nodded, and directed his workmen to begin grinding the rails and mixing mortar for the impromptu brickwork.

"And one last thing, Henry-"

The Fat Controller bellowed, as Henry's lips quivered and his wheels wobbled-

"You are nothing more than defective accident. An accident built by the world's least competent copyright infringer. I was fooled into buying you when I wanted an A1 Pacific engine to run this main line. And I want you to know that I've never regretted ending up with you instead… Until this very day."

He turned to walk away, shooting one last look of disappointed frustration back over his shoulder.

Before long, Henry was cut off, and bricked up. Night fell, day came and the cycle repeated again and again and he remained stuck, wondering if he would ever get to pull carriages or any other kind of long, hard wood ever again.

He was sad, lonely, and his mouth was empty. His firebox burned down to ashes, and he soon grew cold and lonely. He had learned his lesson. Perhaps one day he would be able to show them that he was more than a product of circumstances.

Perhaps one day he would be free once more.


End file.
